My World On Fire
by jumptheshark
Summary: Whoops. I was negligent, it's true, and my kitchen may have caught on fire, slightly. Actual flames leapt out from everywhere and threatened to engulf me, until the fire brigade turned up - and I tell you folks, that's when the REAL fire started...
1. Chapter 1

**My World On Fire**

- Sparks -

Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with any of this.

It was my birthday and I was celebrating alone, as I am the best company of anyone I know. I had put a great deal of thought into planning my meal the night before, and I'd shopped for the ingredients during the day, and was wearing my favorite clothes.

So, yes, folks - I was in my pajamas eating peanut butter on toast when the disaster happened.

I have a somewhat trigger-happy smoke alarm. It has actually achieved self-awareness and a type of primitive intelligence, and it takes an immature and impish delight in screeching at me when it thinks I might do something involving heat. Usually I keep it switched off and banished to a dark cupboard, but for some reason I'd allowed it out.

Now as I've already made clear, I am a person of epicurean tastes. There's only one thing nicer than peanut butter on toast if you ask me, and whether you do or not I'm going to tell you what it is. It's carrot cake with lemon icing. And since today was my day of days - out of all three hundred and sixty-five plus one sixth, September the thirteenth is dedicated to the celebration of me - I had bought myself cake which I poked full of a combination of candles and sparklers to add up to twenty-two. It looked like a spiny anteater.

So I got the thingy that I use to light the gas elements on the stove, and I started singing happy birthday to me, and lit my pretty ccwli up like a firecracker.

And my _fucking_ alarm joined in with the singing, only much shriller and even less tunefully than me, which is really something, and it tried to scream the house down. Christ Al-bloody-mighty. Little A hadn't really let fly quite so fabulously before that I'd ever heard, and I was so discombobulated by the shrieking that I couldn't find the switch. I think I burst seven eardrums and my middle ear on both sides went into hiding. I would have gone into hiding too - under the bed with a pillow wrapped around my head, but A's general petty malevolence is such that its soundwaves can probably lock on target, and I would have been followed if I'd stuck a rocket up my ass and made it halfway to the moon.

Staggering around like a drunk person, holding the offending item with stiff arms so that it was as far from my head as possible, I had the brainwave of throwing it down the toilet. The plastic bastard still tried to wail at me, so I flushed as well.

God! Now I could eat my slice of heaven in peace.

Only, that was not to be. While I was busy dealing with the very real and immediate emergency of the alarm, my kitchen had gone and inconsiderately caught fire. I am a sensitive soul and these sorts of things upset me. I sagged weakly against the door frame and mumbled "help" once or twice, because I could already see my cake was ruined. Not only that, if the flames spread, my whole life could well be ruined. Fire is no respecter of personal possessions, and it was already sniffing out my cutlery drawer. Shit!

I dialled nine-one-one, phone in one hand, other hand clamped over my chest trying to stop myself having heart failure. My Clarice Cliff tea-towel collection - under threat!

You don't know how brave you are until you are tested, and this was my test, I guess. I darted to the kitchen units, starting to cough, feeling my eyes water, and yanked open the third drawer down next to the sink. Yes! Eight tea-towels - and I recovered every single one! And maybe I could do something useful by turning the tap on? Maybe I could wet things? Torrents of lovely water spewed forth from my tap as I put it on full bore, and I saturated my teatowels thoroughly, which was a start. But it was getting hotter than Hades in there, and a glance behind me showed that the fire had actually reared itself up into a monster taller than I was, and I had better run for my life.

Once outside I turned back to look at the poor Sodom and Gomorrah of my kitchen, and a flame tried to get out of the window and come after me. Lucky little A, stuck in the S-bend, might well be the only thing that survived, at the rate the inferno was progressing.

More wails assaulted my already ravaged ears then, but these heralded the approach of the fireservice, unless they were the demented cries of Valkyries come to scrape me off the battlefield. No, a huge shiny red fire engine came racing around the corner and stopped in front of my tiny house, which luckily is freestanding.

And through the swirling smoke, and the tears swimming in my eyes, a vision appeared.

Three firefighters alighted and strode forward...

And I swear to God ...

They pulled off their jackets and in their vests they worked hard to pull the hose down, limp and slack as it was, and they gripped it tightly, each of them with their hands fully splayed along its expanding length. Their faces contorted with concentration and effort, as it filled and swelled and rose and they threw their heads back, mouths open in silent roars. The muscles of their arms and chest rippled, and the tendons in their necks strained while great arcing jets of water spurted from the end of its turgid length, drops spraying as it bucked in their hands.

Twenty minutes later, the show was over. The last few droplets trickled from the nozzle of the now sagging hose, its hefty circumference considerably reduced in its flaccid state, and they tucked it back into its compartment, slowly catching their breath. They each closed their eyes and wiped the back of a weary hand over the sweat dampening their foreheads, and one by one they turned to me, unzipping and pulling off their vests as they did so. Underneath those vests they were bare. That's the aesthetic and material equivalent of half-naked. Oh yes.

They were all tall, all handsome, and all glistening with perspiration. The muscles of their chests and arms were pumped under their sleek skin after their exertion. Not one of them was better-looking than the other two. Under the streetlight's pale glow, they came and introduced themselves, smiling now, and quietly triumphant though still breathing heavily. LIke you do after you - um, go through some sort of outlay of energy and achieve a pleasing outcome.

"I'm Edward," said the first one, panting slightly. Him and me both.

"I'm Jasper." Pant. Ditto.

"I'm Emmett." Pant. Ditto.

"I'm Bella. Thank you for coming, I mean getting here, so fast," I gushed.

In my book, when you see something magnificent, it's perfectly acceptable to stare. It's even polite. Staring is paying homage to magnificence, so I stared. They had streaks of soot here and there, across their firm pecs and smudging down their abdomens, and their veins were standing out on their forearms. So worth staring at. There was another fire brewing quietly that I wondered if I should mention - the fire in my hoochy-cooch.

Then Edward, who seemed to be in charge, sent the other two inside to check that the flames were completely doused, and he started talking business.

"Bella, you can't go stay here tonight. We can take you to the station and you can have a shower and we'll get you some dry clothes and a cup of coffee, and you can make some calls and arrange for somewhere to stay until your house is habitable again," he said.

"Uh, okay. Thanks," I answered, reality sinking in a little.

Edward continued. "The police will interview you, and we'll have to file a report for the insurance assessors - they'll organize securing the property and they'll let you know the clean-up requirements. Do you live alone? Do you have any pets that will need to be cared for?"

"No, no pets. I wouldn't be allowed."

He quirked an eyebrow at this, but if he talked to me for much longer he was going to realize why I wouldn't be allowed responsibility for an animal. It's a wonder that I'm even allowed to walk down a street, with what I'm like.

"Do you have any idea how the fire started?" he asked.

I hung my head, because it had all been my fault, if you don't count little A's contribution.

"Yes. I lit candles and sparklers on my birthday cake, and then I left the room, when I should have stayed there. Probably a spark caught the curtain or something," I mumbled.

"It's your birthday?" He had already been speaking to me gently, now his voice softened even more.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry it's turned out this way. But you're going to get a ride in a fire engine, if that's any consolation," he said.

My brain said "I'd rather have a ride on a fire_fighter,_" but I am so subtle and discreet I kept that remark inside my head, amazingly, and commented instead, "Well, hey, I got half a stripshow," which wasn't nearly as bad. Edward's eyebrow quirked again.

Jasper and Emmett came back out and said the damage was all confined to one room - the kitchen, although the whole place smelled of smoke. We all turned to go back to the firetruck and it's funny and often-remarked upon how a near-death experience can affect somebody's muscular control, you know. Suddenly I found myself unable to manage walking, and Jasper had to put an arm around me, and sling my arm over his shoulder. And smoke inhalation can make somebody weak and disoriented as well. Emmett had to stand on my other side, and wrap his arm around me, and put my other arm around his middle. And then Edward had to lift me up altogether of the ground and carry me into the truck, place me in a seat, and bend over me with his hands on my waist to make sure I was all right. I was kind of all right. Exposure up close to three very gorgeous men can cause shortness of breath and an elevated heart rate, and you might even do something out of character like grab the arm of the nearest very gorgeous man and whimper when it seems like he's moving away from you.

"Are you feeling a little panicked? I usually drive, but I'll sit with you if you like. You've had a very traumatic experience. It's normal to experience after-effects, and to seek comfort," he said.

Oh, I needed comfort, and it was perfectly normal - so said the expert. I had permission to clutch. He let me hold onto his arm the whole way back to the station and he kept talking to me, while I wondered if seizing his thigh would be normal too. It would certainly be comforting, although what would be more comforting still would be to sit across his lap and lick his neck, since I was so traumatized.

However, my ride in the firetruck passed without me doing or saying anything untoward to Edward or either of the other brave rescuers, because I managed to keep my act together. I may not have been _on_ something big, red and shiny, but I was _in_ it, and the motor was throbbing. It was the best twenty minutes of my life.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: SM is definitely not responsible for this. I bet a committee wrote it.

**My World On Fire**

**- **Fanning the Flames -

Once back at the station the guys took me inside, sat me down, and spared no effort to make me feel looked after and comfortable. The whole time they didn't even put their shirts back on, probably because they were still too hot, or something. And Emmett and Jasper seemed to have forgotten my name. Emmett called me Sweetheart. Jasper called me Darlin'. Edward still called me Bella, and he got me a phone and my insurance company didn't pick up so I left a message.

_"My kitchen was laid waste by a conflagration tonight and my birthday cake was ruined, but I think I managed to save my best teatowels, which is the important thing. Please call me for further details_," the message said.

After bringing me a coffee and whispering that it had brandy in it, to help with my recent shock, Emmett told me that his shift was over and he had to go home. He seemed regretful. I certainly was.

"Be seeing you, sweetheart," he murmured, kissing me on the cheek.

Five minutes later, I finished the coffee and Jasper brought me another one, also with brandy. He seemed reluctant to go but it was his finishing time.

"Catch you later, darlin'," he breathed, kissing me on the other cheek.

Which left me and Edward.

"Are you finished for tonight now too?" I asked him sadly.

"Yes, but I'll stay with you until you're picked up. Have you arranged for somewhere to stay and someone to collect you?" he asked.

"No. Can I sleep here? There are beds, aren't there?"

"Yes, there are, but the guys on shift tonight will be using them. We have to sleep here at the station when we're on duty."

"Oh."

I must have looked the very epitome of abject, kitchenless misery, because he hesitated.

"Look, I'll have a word with the chief. We have four beds, and three firefighters on duty. It's probably fine if you stay for one night."

What a nice man! I threw my arms around his neck. He'd be a whole lot nicer if he'd stay with me though, because of me needing comfort.

"Oh,_ thank you_!" I said. I was about to mention the staying with me imperative, and substantiate it with a trauma reminder, when he spoke again.

"Ah - well, can I get you another coffee?" He stammered a little, maybe because I was actually on his toes.

"All coffeed up, thanks," I declined, still hugging him fervently. He wasn't withdrawing from me, he even put his arms up and held me lightly, participating.

"Well, ah, I need a shower," he said, after the hug had gone on for quite a long time.

"No you don't," I answered, because my cheek was to his neck and he smelled all manly, as well as smoky, and he had those smudges on him that just seemed to accentuate his muscles. And my mouth was practically _on_ him. I wasn't planning to let him move anywhere unless he took me with him.

"Well, I need to get out of these trousers," he said.

"Yes, you do," I answered, and he pulled back a little to look at me, his mouth dropping open as if he didn't quite believe what he'd heard.

"Because they're itchy?" I improvised.

He smiled with a combination of wariness and amusement, but something became apparent then. He liked me hugging him, I could tell. There was _evidence_. He liked it a lot. His arms even tightened a little, and he was still smiling.

There's nothing like pressing an advantage.

"I've never met a firefighter before," I said. "Could you show me your pole?"

He burst out laughing, and unfortunately he let me go, he was laughing so hard. After he recovered, he positively smirked, and took me by the hand.

"You'll have to come to the sleeping quarters," he said, and led me down a hall and round a corner and up some stairs and round another corner, and he went ahead of me through a door, and he stopped in the middle of the room, and turned around, gesturing. And there it was - my very first fireman's pole.

"Is this what you're after?" he asked.

"Well, yes. Can I touch it?" I asked, advancing.

"Feel free," was the response.

I reached reverently with one hand, letting my fingertips come into the briefest contact.

"It's so smooth!" I exclaimed to him. "And so slippery! I could slide right down it."

"That's the idea," he nodded.

I took a step closer, and extended my other hand.

"So, what's the method? I grab it with both hands, press my body as close as I can, wrap my legs around, and go to another level?"

Edward took a deep breath.

"Bella, do you always talk to men like this?" he asked, a little unevenly.

I shook my head. "Of course not, that would be asking for trouble."

"And what makes you think you're not asking for trouble right now?"

"Maybe I am."

I was already looking up at him, but he put a hand under my chin so that my face was tilted up.

"Why? Is it the uniform? Are you one of those women who likes a man in uniform?" he asked, frowning.

"You're only in half a uniform. And you said you were going to take the trousers off," I pointed out. "Then you'd be in no uniform at all. Your question wouldn't be applicable."

Gosh - he had very, very green eyes. And very dark lashes. And _scrumptious_ lips. I swallowed deeply and blinked a few times. His mouth looked very soft and lovely, but I couldn't tell accurately just by looking. I reached a finger to my lips so that I would have a basis for comparison, and then I reached it up to his, making contact as he stared down at me. Yup, soft, as I suspected.

"Bella, Jesus, girl - do you know what you're doing?" he groaned, and we were already standing close but he made the distance between us diminish faster than the Amazon rainforest. In a flash his mouth was touching mine. His lips were satin and velvet, though a little chapped, and they brushed mine with the most featherlight of caresses, seeming almost to hover. They were parted, but there was no force behind them, no demand. He was waiting for me.

My lips felt dry too, and the contact was a little weird, but my brave tongue ventured forth and I licked him. It seemed that was all the encouragement he needed, because his mouth covered mine then, with sureness and want. And possession. Oh _God_. His hand moved to the back of my head as he felt me respond to him and he kissed me harder, his other hand slipping to my ass as he pressed my lower body to his. You'd think a firefighter wouldn't be so inflammatory, so incendiary. Such a pyromaniac! Ooh baby. The fire that had been smoldering away in my hoochy-cooch flared up as if he was oxygen. I drew back, tingling and gasping.

Instantly he looked contrite.

"I'm sorry. I misread you. God, I'm taking advantage - you're probably in shock and you're not your normal self..." he said.

"Maybe you're right," I said, because I certainly was in shock. I was in shock that kisses could be _that_ good, since they never had been before. As for not being my normal self - well, on a scale of 1 to 10 let's just say I have an impulsivity disorder that ranks in the hundreds, but I'm not foolhardy. I have never placed myself in a position of danger with a man. I didn't think I was in danger now. I was in some sort of "Take me, I'm yours" mode, which I'd never experienced. In a matter of a couple of hours I'd met him, trusted him, liked him, and wanted him. Did I forget my medication today? Oh, right, I wasn't on any medication, even if I should have been.

"Maybe I just need to have a little rest?" I suggested, weak at the knees.

There were two lots of bunkbeds against the wall, ordinary bunkbeds. Edward indicated them with a turn of his head.

"How do they work?" I asked.

"You just get in one and lie down," he answered, still looking concerned, and still holding my upper arms, which was nice, and very helpful.

"Oh, I don't know if I could manage that by myself," I replied, and he gave me that quizzical look of his, with one eyebrow going up again, and the re-appearance of the smirk.

"Am I to assume that you know exactly what you're doing, and you are _absolutely_ asking for trouble, missy?" he almost growled, and he was so right.

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I'm going to be away for a couple of weeks so I'll update when I get back. See you then, lovelies!


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